The Ice Serpent
by liliana
Summary: The life of a fugitive is never an easy one and Igor Karkaroff is learning this lesson the hard way. His world is further complicated by the arrival of two women, both demanding a piece of his world, albeit for different reasons.
1. Prologue

A tall, sickeningly thin man, wearing a matted silver coat dragged himself through masses of swirling snow. He certainly had no idea if he'd traveled a mile, or simply a few meager feet, unable to see beyond the blanket of white encompassing his current location in every direction. Running a gloved hand over his ice encrusted beard the man attempted yet another step, his weakened knees now buckling beneath him, as he landed unflatteringly face-first on the cold snow-covered ground. _How very attractive._ He snorted to himself, unable to lift his head from its icy position. The wind howled so fervently that he never heard the footsteps approaching.

"Wotcher, Igor, need some help?"

He recognized the woman's voice immediately and thought this to be one of the more embarrassing ways he'd envisioned his life potentially ending.

"Please," he muttered into the snow.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you!" she yelled toward him, a hint of amusement twinkling through her young voice.

"You heard me!" the man grumbled, his face seemingly frozen to the spot.

"No, no I didn't quite catch it!" she teased. "Really Igor, for an educated man such as yourself you do an awful lot of mumbling!"

"Please, would you mind helping me out of this bloody snow!" he screamed out of mere frustration.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she chuckled, grabbing him by the back of his scruffy coat and heaving him to his feet. He stood there swaying precariously for a moment, trying to regain his balance. Tonks gave him a once over, finally able to get a good look at him from the front. Pangs of guilt washed over her as she realized just how ill he seemed. "Can you walk?" she asked, softening only slightly.

"Why? So you can walk me straight to my death?" Igor questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be already," Tonks snorted. "Now come on," she demanded, tugging him by the sleeve. "There's a cabin up ahead."

And with that he was dragged briskly on through the mid-winter storm.


	2. Chapter 1

Igor fell through the rickety front door nearly pulling Tonks with him into a heaving mass upon the wooden planks below. While she had successfully managed to keep herself upright, the former Durmstrang headmaster was not so fortunate. He plunged downward into a particularly jagged floor board which ruthlessly gouged the left side of his face. Igor yelped, muttering some form of profanity under his breath.

"You're ending up flat on your face an awful lot today, Igor," Tonks stated matter-of-factly, once again helping him to his feet.

"Yes, well, I haven't eaten much lately," he grimaced coolly as a steady stream of blood coloured his already grimy fur collar.

Tonks casually nodded her head toward a tiny hallway on their right. "There's a bathroom, second door on the right. You should be able to go in there and mend that gash."

"I – there's a…" Igor began, a trickle of blood splashing to the dusty floor.

"There's a what?" she began, realization now setting in. "Oh don't tell me – you haven't got a wand?"

"No."

"Starving and without a weapon, this certainly is a right mess you've gotten yourself into," Tonks shook her head, pulling out her own wand. Igor instinctively backed away, eyes wide, any residual colour draining from his cheeks.

"Igor, I'm not going to—"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" he screeched.

"But, I only wanted to—" Tonks offered looking utterly flabbergasted.

Karkaroff had recoiled into a corner, sliding down the nearest wall. "Please," he pleaded quietly, his voice shaking. He folded himself, as small child would, into a secure ball while clutching his knees. Nymphadora thought it best to tuck her wand carefully out of Igor's sight before crouching down next to him on the floor. Using soothing tones and placing a hand on his knee she attempted the arduous task of having him lift his head.

"Come now, I've put the wand away, but I need to see your wound," she demanded gently.

"Please don't kill me," he quivered.

"I'm not going to kill you, now please lift your head."

The seconds turned to minutes as Tonks patiently guided Igor from the depths of his fear, delicately checking the seriousness of his injury.


End file.
